April, 15th, 1912 - The RMS Carpathia
Cal's heart thudded anxiously in his chest as he made his way down the stairwell to the steerage deck. He had to get away from Ruth and her hysterical crying; her whimpers of guilt and mourning. He had to have silence to deal with his own dark thoughts. Politely excusing himself he set off to get some air; to run away from the fact that he too was feeling something unpleasant.
He could feel the eyes of confused lower-class passengers on him as he meandered around slowly, his step heavy and his eyes bloodshot while he half-heartedly gazed around him for a flame of red hair.
The crowd surrounding him gawked at him with an awe he could not comprehend. To them, he was royalty; a king who had simply misplaced his crown.
Little did they know he hadn't lost it like some careless child, it had been stripped from him for treasons he would never admit.
Cal shuddered.
He didn't know what he would do if she wasn't here and, for once in his life, it seemed that failure was to be an option. A sinking feeling settled itself into his stomach as he began to head back the way he came, his mind already concocting a story to tell Philadelphia society on why he was having a funeral instead of a wedding, for how his darling fiance managed to perish in the greatest maritime disaster ever recorded - the sinking of the RMS Titanic.
The irony of the situation managed a flicker of a smirk to appear on his face even in his exhausted state.
Turning his eyes upward to the sky, he silently wondered to himself if all of this had been some sort of sick joke.
Chuckling darkly, he hoped that maybe Rose had gotten what she deserved. Perhaps she was dead, rotting away on the bottom of the Atlantic along with her precious gutter rat. Perhaps that was where she belonged.
Turning to the stairwell again, Cal sighed.
He would learn to forget her. He would somehow erase from his mind the rare sight of how her blue eyes would sparkle like precious sapphires, her laugh obnoxious, and her smile as radiant as the sun - a warmth he suddenly realized he had not felt in weeks, months...
How she always brought the smell of fresh-cut flowers into every room, how much she loved to dance and how she admired those God awful paintings of hers, spending hours just staring at the lines and colors, searching for a meaning…
Her fiery spirit had branded him, she had left scars no other woman could ever heal…
Yes, he would forget. It wouldn't be anytime soon.
But before he could step any further, a woman wrapped in a checkered blanket caught his eye. Her face wasn't visible to him, but he could see strands of scraggly, auburn hair poking out from beneath the layers cocooning her. He knew it could be anyone but still his breath hitched in his throat, his palms suddenly slick with sweat as he paused and slowly stepped towards her.
If it wasn't her he would look like a fool.
But if it was... He would have to drag her back home to trap her into a marriage that would fall into misery.
He didn't know if it was worth it.
"Rose?"
He cursed himself silently, his voice cracking when he spoke her name.
A moment passed. Then another. He was growing impatient. He wondered if the woman was deaf.
"Rose?" he repeated louder, faltering.
Finally, she turned to face him. He felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach.
"What do you want from me?"
"Y-You're alive…"
"Yes."
He wondered if Rose had anything else to say to him, wondered if she was going to make this easy for him.
Looking around them, Cal could find no sign of Dawson.
"Where is - " he began despite the obvious conclusion, watching Rose's blood-shot eyes cloud up with tears.
He could see that she was willing herself to not cry on his account.
"I see…"
Rose turned back away from him, not wishing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her so tired, so vulnerable. She had already lost enough - she would not lose her dignity too.
"I'm not going back; don't ask me to."
"And what is it that you plan to do instead?" he sneered, taking a seat next to her, "I'm sure there are plenty of dark street corners in the city where you could whore yourself…"
Rose felt her body numb.
In the back of her mind, she knew that she wouldn't make it on her own. She had no money, no connections, no experience… Any man would be ignoring his animal instinct to refuse the opportunity to defile such a young, beautiful woman alone in the city - all for the setback of just a couple of dollars.
He had a point.
I'd rather be his whore than your wife!
How could she have been so naive?
Turning back to meet his gaze, Rose felt as if she was going to be sick. Cal offered her his hand with a satisfied smirk.
Taking it, she shivered, his cold skin against hers reminding her of the bleak future ahead.
xXx
It had been days since Rose had had the luxury to be alone.
She'd been given dry clothes, a warm bed, hot meals… But never a moment to breathe.
Ever since she had been reunited with her mother and Cal, she had been under their watchful eyes, as if just daring her to try to escape again.
There were no loose bars in her cage - not this time.
Slipping into the hot bath, she sighed blissfully as the warm water encapsulated her tired body. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the wall of the tub, enjoying the fleeting moments she had to herself.
But before she could think of anything else, images flooded her memory.
Frozen, lifeless bodies bobbed around her in the frigid, black night, their faces ghastly. She could feel the ice on her skin, burning, tearing at her flesh… She saw Jack sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic, his handsome face vanishing from ever seeing the light of day again...
Snapping her eyes open again, Rose felt hot tears on her cheeks, her shoulders hunched over as she sobbed…
Jack...
If only he could see her now: shot down and hung on the wall like a hunter's trophy…
She had broken his promise and now she would die here, her fire burned out, stuck in this suffocating world. She would spend her days trotting at Cal's heels while he was branded the genius, a master of his realm while she was simply his wife, something else he had managed to conquer, brainwash into the ever submissive subject.
She had to get out. She would die here, perhaps driving herself mad.
She'd jump off of a balcony, impale herself with a diamond-studded hatpin…
Or better yet maybe Cal would lock her away, unwilling to have his pristine reputation tied to tragedy.
She had to get out.
Climbing out of the tub she knew that Cal was the only one she had to fool. Her mother would only show her distress at her missing daughter until she was handed over the right amount of money. But Cal… He was smarter than she gave him credit for…
He had manipulated her from the moment he set eyes on her; charming her with lies, the dark pieces of the puzzle stashed away... He was the perfect human weapon, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
If she got caught? He would destroy her.
If she didn't? A shiver snaked its way up her spine.
He would…eventually.
She would have to be careful.
xXx
Cal could see that the stars were beginning to vanish, the sky getting lighter, creeping closer to another day… It had to be at least four in the morning… He glanced at the clock. He was too drunk to read it.
He was still wide awake, lying on his bed, his shirt half-open, nursing a bottle of whiskey - stolen from the private stash of his late future father-in-law, Mr. Theodore Dewitt Bukater.
He had to admit, the man had good taste. It was too bad he had been a horrible businessman, and an even worse gambler.
He sighed heavily, the room spinning around him in a chaotic blur.
He couldn't sleep. Of course he never could but tonight was… different. He couldn't stop thinking about her… With Dawson… The name made his mind feel rotten… Holding back the bile rising in his throat, Cal couldn't get it out of his head how that scum had put his hands on Rose... Kissed her lips, made love to her to her sweet, beautiful body...
He could feel his anger burning again, his temples pounding and his hands trembling with rage as he pictured the way her eyes had taunted him through the paper, her seductive curves a prize that was out of reach, never to be won…
I always win, Jack, one way or another…
Cal took another swig from the bottle. Nothing came out. It was empty.
"Goddammit!" he cursed as he threw it down, watching it crash onto the floor in a million pieces.
Burying his face in his hands, he sighed. Sitting upright from the bed, he tripped over his feet as he lazily made his way out of the room, his mouth dry for more liquor.
One bottle wasn't going to be enough for him; not for tonight.
xXx
Rose crept quietly along the wall as she made her way down the back stairs only the servants used, her heart pounding. She had seen the light under Cal's door as she had passed by. He was awake.
Entering the kitchen, she quickly grabbed some fresh fruit and loaf of bread still in its wrapping. She placed them gently in her make-shift bag made from some handkerchiefs and started for the door that would finally lead her to the freedom that she had always craved.
"Going somewhere, sweetpea?" a voice behind her crooned into the quiet night.
Rose froze in her tracks, her blood running cold, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. Turning around slowly, she faced Cal. A smirk played on his lips and a decanter of brandy was gripped in his hand.
She was as good as dead. For a moment she eyed the butcher knife lying on the counter only feet away…
"If you're going to run away, at least don't make it so obvious…" he said as he stepped forward, his dark eyes glistening with malice. Rose's heart thundered in her chest.
"I-I'm not running away…"
"God, you're so stupid, Rose… You think that you can just leave like this? That you'll survive on your own without your gutter rat?" Cal mocked in his drunken stupor, "You don't have any money or connections. I know that you'll come crawling back eventually.." He raged on, his signature smirk glistening in the darkness around them, "But don't expect me to be so charitable the next time around, you ungrateful bitch…"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Cal." Rose snapped with defiance, reaching into her bag and pulling out the Heart of the Ocean, its dazzling, blue facets glittering on the walls around them in the moonlight.
Cal's eyes widened, his gaze a little unfocused as he lunged for it. Rose moved away, causing him to spill the amber liquor onto his freshly cleaned shirt.
"Why you little…" he muttered angrily, glaring daggers at Rose who had already stashed away the necklace again. "Aren't you going to give me back what's rightfully mine?"
"Why should I return a gift that was given to me?"
Chuckling to himself, Cal leaned against a nearby door frame, examining his fiance closely as if she was all part of a strange dream and if he looked away she would vanish any second.
But he did look away and Rose remained, crossing her arms over her chest in a pathetic excuse to look threatening. Cal couldn't help but sneer.
"Go back to bed, Rose." he sighed, knowing that she wouldn't listen.
"You don't control me, Cal…" Rose whispered, narrowing her eyes as she stalked past him, back to her room, where she would avoid him for the next several days.
"Clearly I do!" Cal shouted back, his booming voice even surprising him in the sudden stillness surrounding him.
After she was gone, he stood for a while, waiting for her to return and challenge him further. Occasionally he would sip on the brandy bottle in his hand, feeling it burn down his throat as he swallowed in hurried gulps, desperate for the comfort of unconsciousness.
He didn't know how long he waited, but the brandy disappeared from the decanter.
And so had Rose, slipping through his fingertips into the bleariness of the night.